All That Matters
by Anne-Lilian
Summary: Hunith was new to being a Queen, new to being a mother... but when three-year-old Vivian gets scared of the lightning, could she have done anything else but be her mother too? Prequel one-shot to A Path Unwalked. Fem!Merlin, Royal!Merlin, fluff and Olaf/Hunith. Oh, and baby Merlynn and Vivian. Coverart by Freedom909
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: So, while I was stuck on A Path Unwalked, this idea sort of popped into my head when ssssmc asked in a review about the relationship between Hunith and Vivian. I might do a series of these, but I'm not sure. For now, this will remain a stand-alone sort-of prequel.**

 **Prompts of suggestions are welcome, though.**

She loved storms. It was a bit of an odd thing to say, but Hunith didn't care. Back in Ealdor, storms meant staying inside, huddling around a fire with your family and neighbours. It meant no work on the field, and telling stories, and laughing.

Here in this big castle it was different. Everyone went about their day as normal, nothing changed. Olaf, her husband – even after a year it was still strange to say that word – was busy in a council meeting, which left the new Queen with nothing much to do. Merlynn was playing in her cot, babbling nonsense like only a baby could, while Hunith stared outside. She'd sat down with some needlework – according to her ladies maid she needed to learn this to become a better queen, along with horseback riding, stitching, etiquette lessons… there was no end to it.

A lightning bolt lit up the sky and Merlynn laughed. Hunith kept a close eye on her, but her eyes remained blue. It had been such a shock when she'd walked into her room to find Merlynn floating her toys above her crib. Luckily, she'd snatched them out of the air before Olaf had walked in. As much as she trusted him, she didn't want to bet her daughter's life on it.

A sound from the hallway interrupted her musings. She frowned at the door for a moment. Had she imagined it? No, there it was again.

Another lightning bolt lit up the otherwise dark sky outside, and a small shriek came from the other side of the door. Hunith hurriedly put down her needlework and went to open the door.

At first glance, the hallway was empty, but then she noticed a little girl cowering by the door frame.

"Vivian?" Hunith breathed, crouching down. "What's wrong, little one?" she asked kindly. The girl was wearing her night dress as it was close to her bedtime, and no shoes.

The girl just hugged her knees closer and sobbed. A flash of light came seconds before the thunder struck and Vivian shrieked again. Then she understood. "Oh, my sweet child, are you afraid of the thunder?" she asked, sitting down on the cold floor and putting an arm around the girl.

Before Vivian could answer, a maid came running down the hall. "There you are, you naughty child!" she called. Her angry tone only made Vivian shrink deeper into herself. "Running away like that is not fit behaviour for a princess!"

It was rude of the maid not to address Hunith first, or show her the proper courtesy by bowing or in any way acknowledging, but Hunith didn't much care for ceremony like this. But just this once… "I'll keep her with me, Morna," she said, picking Vivian up easily, as the girl was barely 3 years old. "After all, I am her mother now."

The reproach was subtle, but the maid picked up on it easily enough. She sank into a barely-deep-enough curtsy. "If you're sure."

Hunith noted the lack of 'your highness' or 'my lady' in that sentence, but decided not to push it. "I am. You're dismissed, Morna. I'll put the princess to bed. And I'd like you to report to my study in the morning."

The maid narrowed her beady eyes, but curtsied again and kept her mouth shut. Good choice. Hunith then repositioned Vivian on her hip and re-entered her room. Merlynn was still playing – non-magically – with her toys, not bothered by the foul weather at all, but Vivian… Vivian was shaking like a leaf.

"There now, sweetheart, there's nothing to be frightened of. It's just lightning. It cannot hurt you within these walls," she whispered, keeping the little girl clutched close.

Vivian muttered something, but Hunith couldn't make it out. "What was that?"

Vivian lifted her head, tear track obvious on her cheeks. "Are you my mommy now?"

The question took Hunith completely by surprise. When she'd told Morna that she was Vivian's mother now, she hadn't really thought about it, she'd just wanted to protect a little girl from a mean maid. "Oh sweetheart… Only if you want me to be." She didn't want to replace Olaf's first wife, but the previous Queen had died in childbirth. Vivian probably didn't even know what she looked like.

Sheepishly, the little girl nodded. The sight brought a smile to Hunith's face, and she hugged the girl to herself. "Then I'll be your mother," she whispered.

/*/

It was hours later when Olaf finally returned to his bedchamber. It had been a long day of convincing his council members that setting money aside to build a new bridge over the river. It would simplify travel for the merchants that came to trade in the city.

Needless to say, he looked forward to seeing his wife and getting a few hours of sleep. His room was lit by a single candle by the bed, where Hunith was reading a book. Olaf smiled at her and then went to Merlynn's crib. She seemed so small as she lay there, her little hand clenching and unclenching, caught in a dream. She wasn't his by blood, but every day he looked at her, from the moment he first lay eyes on the blue-eyes girl, his love for her grew. She would make a fine princess, and a good little sister to Vivian.

He'd gotten used to the baby sleeping in their bedchambers, even though it wasn't exactly conventional. Hunith had insisted on it, and had plainly refused to have a wet nurse. She was a stubborn one, his wife.

With a grin, he walked over to her. He opened his mouth to greet her, but she put a finger on her lips, silencing him. He frowned. Merlynn always slept deeply, so he wasn't exactly sure why his wife was cautioning him. She smiled and gestured to what he had thought was a pillow by her side.

The pillow-shaped hump had blonde hair sticking out of the top. Olaf carefully pulled back the blanket to see his daughter, Vivian, sleeping there, curled into Hunith's side.

"She was scared of the lightning," Hunith whispered, setting aside her book, "so I let her sleep here. I hope that's alright?"

Olaf was a little speechless. Vivian had never known her mother, and had never really bonded with her maid, so it was a surprise to see her sleeping so comfortably next to her step-mother. "Uh, yes, of course," he whispered in answer to Hunith's question.

"I think we should talk about her maid, Morna. Vivian told me she didn't like her, because she was mean. I think we should search for someone else…" Hunith suggested. She seemed so unsure, not yet comfortable in her role as wife and Queen, though it had been a year already.

"You are the Lady of this household, my love. If you feel that Morna isn't performing adequately, you can reassign her and find a different maid," he replied, getting in bed, careful not to jostle his daughter.

Hunith bit her lip and looked off towards Merlynn's crib. "What is it?" he asked. It was so clear to him that there was something else on her mind.

"I thought perhaps…" She kept her eyes on the crib. "I thought perhaps I could raise her myself, like Merlynn…"

Once again, Olaf was speechless. It wasn't done among nobles, let alone with one's step-child. But the gesture endeared her to him even further. It had been her kind heart and strong personality that had drew him to her in the first place.

"She asked me to be her mommy… I didn't know what to say, she seemed so lost and alone… I told her I'd be her new mother. It's now that I realize…" She finally looked at him, a troubled look in her eyes. "I don't want to replace her mother, it isn't right, I'm sure Rebecca would have been a wonderful mother, and I don't know if I can–"

Olaf interrupted her by taking her hands in his. "Rebecca… she would have been glad that someone cares as much as you do, and that you're here to look over her. _I'm_ glad that you care about her," he said earnestly.

Hunith smiled, moved by his words. "I love you," she whispered.

He cherished the words. He knew that at the time of their wedding she had not loved him, but he believed that she had learned to over this past year. Hearing her say those words meant the world to him. "And I you, my love."

And really, that was all that mattered, was it not?

 **A/N: Review!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2:**

Olaf stood in front of the window, lost in thought. As they often did these days, his thoughts drifted towards his youngest child. Merlynn was in the private gardens, training with her instructor, but despite having been tutored in the art of the sword these past two years, Olaf could see that it wasn't going well. As he watched, Merlynn threw down her practise sword and ran off. Olaf sighed. Life wasn't easy for his little bird. While everyone doted on Vivian, Merlynn was often looked upon with scorn and distrust. And she didn't understand why.

Olaf made his way calmly to the gardens. "My king!" Merlynn's instructor called. The man knelt before him, which was a little formal for the situation, but Olaf didn't think too much of it. "Your daughter sire… she's run off again," the man said, sounding more than a little nervous.

"Yes, I'm aware," Olaf said, waving the man up. "Wait here," he ordered, before strolling deeper into the garden. He had a feeling he knew where his youngest had run off to. Birds like to perch in trees, after all.

At the very edge of the garden, a magnificent oak tree stood. It had been there since the day Olaf's father planted it, and it was a particular favourite of Merlynn's. Sitting down on the bench beneath it, Olaf peered up at the thick canopy. He couldn't see a thing through all the leaves, but he knew he'd guessed right when he heard a quiet gasp. He sat there, silently, for a few minutes, until the leaves started rustling, and suddenly, a little girl leaped from the lowest branch.

"It wasn't my fault," she said sullenly, sitting down next to him.

Olaf couldn't help the smile that formed on his face. For all that people believed him to be a stern man, his youngest daughter had a way of making him smile, even if he was angry. And when he wasn't angry, the smile came all the more easy. "I believe you," he said simply, continuing to let his eyes rove over the rest of the garden.

Merlynn shifted on the bench. "Honest! Master Raelen always shouts at me, and I misjudged." From the corner of his eye, Olaf could see her crossing her arms. "He should've just moved his foot if he didn't want me to hit it."

Barking out a laugh, Olaf realized that that was why the man had knelt, instead of just offering a customary bow. "Oh, my sweet little bird. You're absolutely right, he should have moved his foot, he is a master swordsman, after all," he said, still chuckling.

"Father, must I have these lessons? I hate them, and I'm not getting any better," she asked, leaning her head against his shoulder.

Olaf put an arm around her and pulled her closer. She was growing so fast, soon enough she'd be a grown woman, and too big to sit on her father's lap. "Do you hate them because you're not getting any better, or are you not getting any better because you hate your lessons?" he asked philosophically.

Merlynn pulled back, looking at him, clearly confused. He laughed. "Father, it's not funny," she complained, but settled against him once more.

"I'm sorry, darling. But you know it's customary for women to learn how to fight," he said softly.

"None of the other noble girls know how to fight. They only take lessons because they have to, and then quit after a year, regardless of their level of skill," she mumbled.

Sometimes, Olaf found it hard to believe Merlynn was only 10 years old; she sounded so much older. He blamed her reading all those books. "Perhaps, but you know that is not the way of the royal family. My grandfather instituted the law that required all offspring of the current ruler to learn how to defend themselves and their Kingdom." Olaf's eyes were drawn to the wall surrounding the garden. Soldiers were patrolling it, as was their duty, but something else occurred to him. "What if you learned a different discipline?" he suggested.

Raising her head, Merlynn frowned at him. "What do you mean?"

He smiled and kissed her forehead. "You'll see, my little bird."

/*/

A month later, Olaf sat in the same place, underneath the tree. He had found a new tutor for his youngest daughter, but she had refused to let him see her practise. Her tutor – a calm, and very capable knight by the name of Sir Éamonn – had taken quite a shine to her, and had refused any comment on her progress, except to say that she was doing well. It vexed him, and he had to admit he'd lost his patience once, but his wife had shown him that getting angry would help nothing. Besides, Éamonn was infuriatingly impassive in the face of his temper.

"Sire?"

The King looked up into the face of a young servant. "What is it?" he asked irritably.

The young boy squeaked. "Uhm. Sir Éamonn requires your presence, my lord," he said quickly.

Frowning, the king got up and dismissed the boy with a wave of his hand. If something had happened to Merlynn… No, Éamonn would have sent a guard, and they would have told him it was urgent. So why was being sent for?

He hurried to the training fields, where he knew the knight to be, but paused at the edge. His little Merlynn was standing there, positively glowing with excitement as she talked to the knight. One of her arms sported a leather brace, and the other hand was curled around a bow.

As if sensing his presence, Merlynn looked up. "Father!" she shouted, waving at him enthusiastically. It was rather unladylike, but Olaf hardly minded. He made his way over.

"My king," Éamonn said with a small bow, his countenance as serious as ever.

"Éamonn. Am I right in assuming that I might finally see what progress my daughter has made?" he asked, affectionately stroking Merlynn's braided hair.

A small smile pulled at the edge of the old knight's mouth. "You are indeed, sire. The princess insisted on no one seeing her progress."

"Well then, let's see it," he said, a tad impatiently. A target was set up a little further down the field. It was by no means a challenging distance, but it was further away then he thought it would be after only a month. Still, he made no comment as Merlynn stepped up to a line drawn in the grass and nocked an arrow. She breathed in and out slowly, and Olaf was already impressed with her patience, as she seemed to lack it in every other aspect of her life.

"Think of the wind, now," Éamonn said, but offered no more comments.

A moment later, Merlynn let the arrow fly and… hit only slightly off the centre. She had come that far in only a month?

The dark-haired child turned to him, a big grin on her face. "Did you see that, father?"

Olaf let out a laugh and enveloped the girl in his arms. "A near perfect shot!" he enthused. "We'll make a warrior of you yet!"

Merlynn looked at him, pride shining in his eyes, and Olaf wished he'd had her switch to archery two years ago. How a person so horrible with a sword could be so talented with a bow, he didn't know, but he couldn't be prouder!

"I get it from you, father, I'm certain of it!" she said as he put her down, grabbing another arrow and nocking it. Olaf's smile faded as the second arrow landed a bit further from the middle. He'd have to tell her about her ancestry sooner rather than later.

But as he watched her excited smile and assured her that he was definitely watching as she shot her third arrow, he knew it could wait just a little while longer. Just for a few days more, she could be his, and his alone…


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Finally got some inspiration again. This is a little Merlynn &Vivian bonding. Enjoy!**

 **Chapter 3:**

It was an ungodly hour of the morning. Vivian cracked open an eye, seeing that her room was still pitch-black. For a moment, she was confused as to what had woken her, until she heard a knock at the door. She groaned.

Rolling out of her bed, she marched angrily to the door, ready to tell the person on the other side of the door to go away, in a rather unladylike manner. But when she opened the door, the words died on her lips.

It was her annoying little sister, standing there, shivering, and with tears in her eyes. Vivian closed her eyes and leaned her head against the door. "What do you want, Merlynn?" she asked, reluctantly looking at the little girl again.

Merlynn sniffed, fresh tears rolling down her chubby cheeks, and just stood there. Her lips moved, but Vivian had no idea what the child had said. Why had their parents decided to leave again? And why couldn't they have taken the brat with them? It was bad enough that Merlynn followed her around like a little puppy during the day, but now she was going to bother her during the night as well?

Sighing in frustration, Vivian knelt on the cold floor, leaning closer so she could hear Merlynn better. "What was that?"

"I had a dream," the six-year-old said, clutching at her night gown. "There were big, scary monsters, and they took you and mama and papa away."

Something softened in Vivian. "Well, no one took us away, mother and father are visiting another kingdom, remember?" she said, putting an awkward hand on her sister's shoulder. She had no idea what to do to comfort the little girl.

Merlynn rushed forward and threw her arms around Vivian's neck. "But what if they did? What if mama and papa are gone?" she cried.

Vivian desperately wanted to extract herself from the embrace, but Merlynn was stronger than she looked. "They're not gone. Sir Fredrick would never let anything happen to them, I promise."

When Merlynn made no move to release her, Vivian sighed again. "Look, we'll send them a message tomorrow, alright? And when they reply, you'll know that they're perfectly fine."

Slowly, the youngest princess let go of her sister, still sniffing, but not outright crying anymore. "Can I stay with you, Vivi? Please?"

Once again, Vivian couldn't help but soften at her sister. Those big, blue eyes would get her in trouble someday, she was certain of it. "Come here, Mellie. As long as you don't snore, you can sleep in my bed."

Mellie – Vivian had barely even remembered that little nickname – giggled a little, and followed her sister to the bed. When they were both finally settled in, and Vivian was about to fall asleep, she heard her sister speak one more time. "Vivi? I love you," she said sleepily.

The older princess couldn't help a smile. Then, she closed her eyes and went to sleep.

/*/

"Don't look now, Vivian, but the bastard is coming this way again."

Vivian looked over at her friend, feeling irritated. Lady Marianna had always been a bit obnoxious, and especially towards Merlynn, but where Vivian had found it amusing before, she only felt anger. The lady was only a year older than Vivian, and they spent a lot of time together, but now, Vivian thought it might be time to find new friends.

"She's your princess, Marianna, and you shall treat her as such, do I make myself clear?" she ground out.

Marianna and the other two ladies looked shocked at Vivian's outburst, but the princess couldn't care less. She had never particularly liked it when people called her sister a bastard, and most of the other courtiers knew better than to use that word when Vivian was near, but Marianna had always had thoughts beyond her station, and it was time Vivian reminded her who the princess was.

The shocked look on the lady's face was also nice to see.

Vivian walked off without another word, and headed to where her sister had stopped, just outside of hearing range – thank the gods, she was _not_ going to explain to her parents if Merlynn found out that Olaf wasn't her father. "Come on, Merlynn, do you want to go play a game?" she asked, loud enough for the other ladies to hear.

Merlynn's pretty blue eyes lit up, and she was visibly holding herself back from jumping up and down. "Oh, would you, Vivi?"

"Of course, come on." Merlynn may not have been her true sister by blood, but Vivian was going to make sure that everyone in the kingdom knew that she didn't care, not any more than her mother and father did. Merlynn was a princess of Galdara, and she was family. The older princess vowed right there and then that she would never care about what other people thought, ever again. Especially not loathsome, obnoxious ladies like Marianna.

"Hey, Mellie?"

"Yes, Vivi?"

"I love you too."

 **A/N: Leave a review!**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: I actually wrote this a little while ago, and I'd planned to include it somewhere between chapter 21 and 22 of Paths. As it is, I couldn't fit it in properly, so it'll be a little one shot like all the other chapters of this story. It takes place after A Nightly Conversation, and before chapter 22.**

 **The chapter title refers to Merlynn and Vivian's ages respectively. I'm going to change the previous 3 chapter so that they'll all have their ages in the title.**

 **Chapter 4: 18-20**

"Vivian!" An angry shout echoed through the halls, before the door to the oldest princess' chambers burst open. The younger princess barged in, not bothering to close the door, or even pause in the doorway as decorum demanded. She was on a mission.

"What?" the blonde asked in a bored voice. She sat in a chaise by the fire, daintily working on her needlepoint.

Merlynn only got more angry when her sister refused to look at her. "Where's my dress?" she demanded.

Vivian sighed and put her work aside. "What dress?"

"Which one do you think? The purple one I had commissioned!" Merlynn shouted, balling her hands and glowering at her sister.

Vivian made a face. "Like I would ever wear your dress, little sister," she said dismissively, leaning back in her chair. It was uncharacteristically unladylike of the elder sibling, but Merlynn was hardly in a state of mind to care.

"What's wrong with my dresses?" she asked, feeling her irritation fuel her anger. Without noticing, electricity was dancing over Merlynn's hand, pulled to the surface by her emotions.

"They're so… plebeian," Vivian replied with a shrug.

"You're so conceited sometimes!" the younger princess screamed. "There's nothing wrong with my dresses, just because you're the most vain, self-centred, judgemental–"

" _What_?" Vivian shrieked. "I am not _judgemental_!"

"But you agree you're vain and self-centred?" Merlynn shot back with a sneer. She was being purposefully nasty, but since Vivian was being mean, she felt justified.

"Take that back, you little brat!" Vivian screamed, got up and glared at her sister.

"Why should I take it back, it's the tr–"

"Girls!" The two princesses looked up in surprise at the open door. Vivian's maid stood there with wide eyes, next to a rather miffed-looking queen. Hunith had her hands in her hips and was frowning severely at her daughters. "You are princesses of Galdara, and this is how you choose to behave?"

Merlynn opened her mouth to protest, but her mother cut her off. "Don't. I don't want to hear it. You both know full well that we have guests, and I can assure you that they heard your entire argument. The whole kingdom probably heard it! Merlynn, you need to stop immediately blaming Vivian when something of yours goes missing. I had your dress taken back to the seamstress. And Vivian, after the scare we had with Merlynn just a few days ago, I'd think you would have learned to treat her a little better."

Both young women looked down sheepishly. Of course their mother was right. They'd behaved like children, and it was not befitting a princess of Galdara. But Vivian didn't like being shouted at, not even by her mother. So she huffed, and walked into her bathing chamber, while Merlynn scowled after her. Merlynn, usually being the more level-headed of the two, knew the value of apologising right away, though there were only two people in the world she'd make an exception for: a certain prat and her vain sister.

Merlynn sighed and turned to her mother. "I'm sorry mother. We shouldn't have behaved like that, and as soon as _Vivian_ ," she said, raising her voice, "decides to be an adult and come out," she shouted at the closed door, "I'll apologise to her as well."

Hunith smiled and stepped forward, pulling her daughter into her arms. "Thank you, little bird," she whispered, and Merlynn smiled at the old nickname.

"She just… she's the only one who can get under my skin like that," she sighed, burying her head in her mother's neck.

"The only one? I've heard there's someone else who manages to do that just fine," her mother said, combing her fingers through her daughter's dark hair.

Merlynn blushed, and was grateful her mother couldn't see it. "He's just a prat," she muttered.

Her mother chuckled. "Of course, my love."

Pulling back, Merlynn made a face. "Mother, I'm serious, he's just a friend. But you're right, he _can_ be just as conceited and vain as Vivian."

Her mother just smiled and pulled her back into the hug. There was something odd about the way she looked at her, but Merlynn couldn't quite put her finger on it. It was almost like resignation, but what could her mother be feeling resigned about?

Mentally, Merlynn shrugged it off, it didn't bear too much thought, and she still had to find a way to apologise to her sister.

"Why don't you try lemon cakes?" her mother suggested. "You know your sister loves those."

Merlynn grinned, thanked her mother and raced off to procure some from the kitchens. Vivian could never stay mad at her, and even less so when lemon cakes were offered as a peace offering.

 **A/N: I have to be honest, the lemon cakes is a thing I got from a Game of Thrones fic, apparently, Sansa likes her lemon cakes :)**

 **Also, I might start including little snippets about Vivian and Rowan in this, but I'm not sure... Let me know what you think?**

 **And leave a review!**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Arthur receives the letter Merlynn sent him in chapter 35. There is fluff, you are warned ;)**

 **The letter**

It had been a long day, and Arthur was exhausted by the time he reached his chambers. Training with his knights, a session with the council and a lecture from his father had drained him, and all he really wanted to do was sleep.

Morris was tidying up when he entered, but Arthur ignored him. He was about to just dismiss the man for the night when a suspiciously Merlynn-sounding voice reminded him that he should really be polite, even to his servant. "That's all for today, thanks, Morris," he said as he went behind his changing screen.

"Of course, sire," Morris said. "Oh, but there's a letter."

"Whatever it is, it can wait until morning," Arthur replied, a little testily. He quickly threw on his sleep shirt before he headed back out from behind the screen.

"It's from Princess Merlynn, sire," Morris insisted, holding out the letter.

Arthur hesitated. Ever since King Olaf had stopped all trade between Galdara and Camelot, letters were few and far between. The only other option was to send a messenger, but that was only done in emergencies. But the longer the lack of contact lasted, the more he was tempted to do it, just to see her handwriting, to hear her thoughts again. And probably to be reprimanded for scaring her by sending a messenger when there was no emergency.

He took the letter from Morris, who was obviously trying to suppress a smile. Arthur rolled his eyes. "Go annoy someone else, Morris."

"Will do, sire," the servant said, and promptly bowed and left the chambers.

Arthur looked down at the envelope. It was addressed to him alone, not Morgana, which made him happier than it should.

He missed her.

It shouldn't have surprised him, given that he was well aware of his feelings for her, but it did. He missed hearing her input, her thoughts on decisions he had to make, he missed being able to complain to her about his father and the council, and having her call him a baby. _Or a prat,_ he thought fondly.

How had she gone from that girl who'd insulted him on the training grounds to someone he felt was an integral part of his life in such a small amount of time?

Sighing, he decided to open the letter. There was the customary letter itself on the envelope, but there was an additional folded piece of paper. She put that aside to read later.

Arthur smiled as he read; he could practically hear Merlynn reading it to him. She complained about the cold and that Camelot had spoiled her with its warmer weather, she complained about her sister keeping her distance for some reason – _odd_ , Arthur thought, since normally the sisters were inseparable.

' _My father and I have… come to an understanding. I feel like I can finally be myself after hiding for years. I can't properly explain it, I wish I could just show you. You'd probably make some prattish comment which would make me laugh, even though I wouldn't want to admit it.'_

She went on to describe some of the more mundane things that had happened, but Arthur's eyes kept going back to that paragraph. Perhaps the Princess missed their companionship as much as he did?

Finally satisfied that he'd read (and re-read) the letter sufficiently, Arthur turned to the other sheet of paper. It was a sketch of two knights fighting. One had a dragon sigil, the other was an unidentified man with a lion on his shield. The knight with the dragon sigil had the upper hand, swinging his sword down towards the kneeling lion-knight, even as the latter raised his blade to counter.

The dragon sigil was clearly the Pendragon crest, and the thought made his chest swell. So she clearly thought of him as well. There were a few lines at the top of the paper. _'Dear Arthur, one of these days you'll have to enter into a Galdaran tournament. I'm sure you could beat_ some _of them.'_ Arthur frowned.' _Don't scowl, I was just joking.'_

Arthur wiped the scowl from his face. That woman knew him far too well. _'You could give Rowan some competition, though Vivian and I would be at odds as to whom we want to have as a champion. I hope we'll meet again soon, it's been too long already. Yours, Merlynn.'_

The words 'it's been too long already' were somewhat messily written, as though Merlynn had written them down quickly, before she changed her mind. And there was a slight smudge after that line, which made him think that she had thought about crossing it out.

So Merlynn missed him, too. It was a comforting thought.

His thoughts were interrupted when his candle sputtered a little. It had burned down to a stump and was threatening to go out at any moment. Perhaps it was time to go to sleep. He'd compose a reply tomorrow, when he was more awake and less likely to write something down he'd regret.

He left the letter on his desk, but took the drawing with him to bed, where he lay it on his nightstand. He didn't quite feel like parting with it just yet.

 **A/N: Let me know what you think!**


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